


Proof Fictional

by Ariel_Tempest



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Fluff, International Fanworks Day 2020, Meta Thomas/Jimmy, Not What It Looks Like, Other, Personal fantasies, Shipping Your Coworkers, meta fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariel_Tempest/pseuds/Ariel_Tempest
Summary: Anna Bates has always said that Thomas was special to Jimmy. Now she has proof positive she was right! Or does she?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: International Fanworks Day 2020





	Proof Fictional

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Hinny_B for betaing!

Thomas slipped into the boot room and pulled the door closed behind him, not bothering to disguise the soft click of the latch. "Alright," he glowered at the woman sitting at the table, polishing a pair of walking shoes, "What on earth has you so smug?"

Anna Bates looked up from her polishing and gave him a knowing smirk. She'd been giving him looks like that all day. It was irritating beyond reason. "I was right," she informed him, her tone as insufferable as her expression.

"Right about what?" he purred back, the overly pleasant tone a warning in and of itself. He never sounded that pleasant with the other staff unless he was about to slice them up like a Christmas ham. Whatever hold she thought she had over him, she had better spill it, and quickly or, well, he didn't know what he'd do, but it would not be pleasant.

It didn't phase Anna. "About you being special to Jimmy. I found proof."

"Proof?" Thomas scoffed. He still wasn't amused by the whole thing, but his paranoia eased off at least a little bit. "What sort of 'proof' do you imagine you've found?"

She put down the shoes and picked up something sitting hidden in her lap. It turned out to be a book, which she stretched out to him. "Lady Mary sent me up into the attics to fetch a dress she'd already had put away, but changed her mind about. While I was up there, I noticed this tucked under the cover on some old furniture and picked it up." When he didn't reach for it, she stretched it further toward him with an encouraging smile. "Go on then, take a look!"

Not bothering to hide his skepticism, Thomas took the book and flipped it open. It turned out to be a diary, filled with a rushed, borderline sloppy hand. It was hard to say if the author had never managed proper penmanship or if they'd just been too hurried to be neat about it, but it was at least legible. 

_I don't know whether to count this as one of the worst days of my life, or the best. On the one hand, I've been horrid. I realize that now. That is, I knew before, but I told myself I had reason, good reason! Now I know I've just been a terrible person. But at least now that I've realized that I can be better, especially to him. To Thomas. It's still difficult to write that, even after his noble sacrifice this afternoon. He didn't say, but the way he looked at me, I'm certain everyone knows that he was beaten and robbed for me. How can I deny him anything after that? My heart? My soul?_

Thomas stared at the book in his hands, his face twisting as if he'd just swallowed a mouthful of treacle with a cup of sugar mixed it for extra sweetening. "What is this rot?" 

"I think it's sweet," Anna informed him, a prim-yet-impish twinkle to her eye. "And really, how could he have said all of those things to you without you figuring out what you meant to him?"

"What things?" Thomas asked, completely uncertain that he wanted to know.

"The things he said when he came to visit you? After the fair?"

Pressing onward, Thomas found himself reading an account of Jimmy's coming to his room after the events of the Thirsk fair. It was even soppier than the bit about giving his heart and soul. What's more, it was completely inaccurate. "I know you're very pleased with yourself, right now," he informed Anna, who was still giving him the most insufferable I-told-you-so look. "But I'm afraid I must disappoint you. You see, Jimmy didn't write this."

It was Anna's turn to scoff. "And how do you know that? Because Jimmy would never be that soppy?"

"For a start," Thomas agreed. "Also, the bit in my room? That didn't happened."

"Alfred said he saw Jimmy going in to talk to you."

Making a mental note to murder Alfred if he ever saw the skinny string bean again, Thomas shook his head. "Oh, Jimmy came in alright. But all of this about 'gazing into each others eyes' and 'brushing our fingertips together' and 'learning to appreciate the true depth of my devotion'? It's rubbish. Neither of us said or did anything like that. And before you come up with some counter argument to that, there's one more thing. Jimmy may not have written me so much as a postcard since he left, but he wrote the odd note while he was here. This isn't his handwriting."

That actually seemed to provide a stumbling block. "Are you certain?"

"Dead certain. Even if he was writing in a hurry, Jimmy's handwriting was a lot looser than this, and he made the letters larger. It would have taken twice to space to say the same thing. " He closed the book with a very final clap. "He didn't write this."

The smug look was finally gone from Anna's face, replaced by utter confusion. "But why would anyone else write it?"

"I don't know. But I intend to find out." Tucking the book under his arm, he marched out of the boot room.

* * *

Anna regretted showing Thomas the diary. She'd had the best intentions, really. She'd thought knowing that Jimmy had really cared about him, regardless of what he'd thought, might show him that he wasn't really so different from everyone else. Now she found herself watching every member of the staff closely, trying to guess who on earth had written that silly thing (and why), and warn them that the under butler was on the war path. Her only real consolation was that Thomas didn't seem to have figured it out either. He watched everyone at meals when he thought they weren't looking; made a point of being places he really had no reason to be, but that might let him see someone's writing; dropped snide comments, and was generally worse than usual without showing any sign of having someone to direct that nastiness at. 

It had been a week. Anna was about ready to give up. She could only hope that something would come along and divert Thomas's attention. In the meantime, she thought, hanging her coat and heading for the servant's hall, she had a job to do. And really, what business did anyone have writing things like that and simply leaving them lying around anyway? If she was being fair, if Thomas did catch them, they'd deserve what they got, wouldn't they?

"Really, Mrs. Patmore," Mrs. Hughes's voice slipped through the grate above Anna's head as she walked past. Not one to eavesdrop, the lady's maid continued resolutely on her way, only to be stopped two steps later by the words, "If the manuscript was so important to you, why didn't you keep it in your room?"

"I didn't want one of the maids to find it, did I?" the cook rebutted, her tone flustered. 

"What, did you think they'd steal your masterpiece?"

"Well, no," Mrs. Patmore admitted. "It's the first piece I've written, isn't it? I'm hardly going to be Jane Austen on the first go, am I? I hadn't even thought to get this one published. It's just a silly little thing to get in the practice so I can do some real writing when I retire. But that just makes it all the more embarrassing to think of someone reading it."

"Then I'd suggest you don't think about it," Mrs. Hughes advised, "Since it's gone missing." There was a pause and she added, "There's no need to look so horrified! Unless you've written something indecent?"

Mrs. Hughes didn't sound as if she honestly believed the cook would write something less-than-proper, let alone smutty, but Anna couldn't help thinking the cook's stammered, "What? Me? Write something indecent? Don't be ridiculous!" sounded a bit forced. "It's just a poor showing is all. Practice, as I said."

Feeling the tips of her ears burn slightly, she slipped away from the grate. Some practice! she thought. Still, at least she knew it was just a silly...what? A silly bit of whimsy? Embarrassing, but not meant to be taken seriously? She couldn't help but think Mrs. Patmore could have come up with a better source of practice for her future literary career! Still, she'd have to tell Thomas that the diary, while not what she'd thought, wasn't intended as blackmail or some such either. Except that she couldn't do that without admitting she knew who had written it and why and he'd want to know. She supposed she could just not tell him that part, but he wouldn't like that, and she didn't really need to attract his wrath herself.

Slipping into the servant's hall where the rest of the staff was starting to gather from their various chores for servant's tea, she decided she'd just have to find a way to steal the book back and put it back where she'd found it. No one would be the wiser and Mrs. Patmore would think she'd just looked under the wrong bit of furniture. No harm done.

Thomas stalked into the room and took up his place at the table, back stiff, his nose clearly out of joing about something. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and rethought that. Perhaps she'd just pretend she'd never seen the thing and hope Thomas burned it. Mrs. Patmore could find something else to write about!

**Author's Note:**

> I like a challenge, so on top of the whole 'write meta fiction' challenge, I had to try and make it time period compliant for a pre-internet period drama.
> 
> This was in part inspired by the video clip going around of Mrs. Patmore telling everyone "stop wasting time on that Tumblr thing and writing fanfiction about Thomas and Jimmy and go throw a ham in the oven!" What can I say? She seemed to know an awful lot about fanfiction.


End file.
